Forever
by GrievousHasABadCough
Summary: Prowl had lost the one thing that meant anything to him. Is there any way he'll be able to cope? ONE-SHOT Made by a friend as a tribute to a death in the family.


Prowl stood at the graveside. He'd come here every day for the past week, and it still didn't feel real. Barricade couldn't really be gone. There was no way the tough as nails ex-Decepticon had succumbed to processor degradation and died. He was too strong, too smart, and too tough to have become the confused, frail, broken mech that had slipped away a week ago.

No, Prowl had to be honest with himself, Barricade had been slipping away for the last year. The illness had started innocuous enough. Barricade would forget what time his patrol started. No big concern there. Since the war ended, patrols weren't as essential as they once had been. More than one mech "forgot" he had patrol.

Prowl wasn't concerned until the day he walked into Barricade's room and found the ex-Enforcer holding something. The spiky mech had turned to Prowl and said he had been staring at the object for a half an hour and couldn't remember what it was. Barricade held out his servo and Prowl's spark sank. Barricade was holding his most cherished possession; a crystal from the long lost Crystal Gardens of Praxus.

Without hesitation or second thought, the tactician brought the ex-Con to Ratchet. A battery of tests later confirmed the awful news; Barricade was suffering from processor degradation. It was irreversible and ultimately would cost Barricade his life.

The ensuing year was a hellish nightmare for the ex-Enforcers. Each day Barricade forgot a little more of himself, his past, and the world around him. Each forgotten memory made Prowl feel like a useless failure. What good was his tact-net if it couldn't be used to save Barricade.

Comms went unanswered. Barricade could no longer remember how to access his comm system; the blinking alert confusing and frustrating him, leading Ratchet to deactivate it. Sometimes an entire day would go by with Barricade forgetting to refuel, even when the energon was brought to him.

It had been a devastating day for both when Prowl had gone to get Barricade for their weekly drive and no matter how hard he tried, Barricade could not remember his transformation sequence.

He turned pain filled optics to Prowl and his words burned through Prowl, "I don't wasn't to live like this. I'm useless."

"No, you're not," Prowl responded, but he understood Barricade's pain. Day by torturous day Barricade was losing another piece of himself, and he knew it was happening, and both were powerless to stop it.

As the degradation progressed, Barricade became weaker and more frail. Each movement was a stiff painful chore, making other mechs wince as he would slowly pass by.

The inevitable day came when Barricade could no longer care for himself. Prowl didn't hesitate to move him into his private room. There was plenty of room in the officer's quarters for two.

He resigned his position as both chief tactician and Second in Command. Instead of running the base, Prowl spent his time caring for Barricade.

The disease was relentless in its progression. Prowl considered every day Barricade knew him to be a good day. Then came the day Barricade couldn't get out of his berth. Prowl commed Ratchet, who rushed to the pair. There was nothing that could be done, Barricade was going to die, soon. Ratchet medicated the dying mech so he would pass without any pain.

Prowl sat up with Barricade late into the night. Only going into recharge when his lack of energon and recharge prompted warnings to flash across his HUD. At first light he woke from recharge. Barricade was still alive, Prowl heard his respirations and then they stopped. And that quickly Barricade died.

Quickly, no it wasn't a quick death. It was a slow, year-long agonizing death.

Now one week later, he stood by Barricade's grave. The Cybertronians having adopted their human counterparts' custom of burying their dead. He looked at the gravemaker and his spark broke. Never again would Barricade's gruff voice be on his comm. They would never spend an afternoon driving around, singing to human music, or laughing at nothing at all. There would be no reminiscing about the fun times they once had and places they had been. He would never again argue politics or current events with Barricade; each one lacing small verbal barbs with love and genuine spark deep affection.

Barricade was gone and Prowl was truly alone. "I love you, Dad. I'll miss you forever."


End file.
